


Duelling

by beehoony



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beehoony/pseuds/beehoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull issues a challenge to make a point, and Cullen answers in kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duelling

It helped to be tired, which was one reason why he worked until he couldn't see straight, then woke up and did it all again. Between the constant parade of messengers and reports, he found the time to drill his soldiers and occasionally, "beat the shit out of them", as she called it. One never improved without fighting with someone faster, stronger, more skilled, but she disapproved anyway.

Doing this meant that some nights he didn't dream at all. Tonight though, he wasn't even winded. He had disarmed the hapless recruit in seconds, and he made a mental note to speak to the man's sergeant.

"You're getting sloppy, commander." Cullen turned to see the Iron Bull grinning at him. "You haven't fought with someone who can match you in weeks."

Cullen could see where this was going. Why not? He was not feeling the effects of the lyrium withdrawal today. "Get in the ring, Bull." He settled into an easy guard as the Bull hefted his greataxe, grinning like a madman. He never could understand how the Bull handled it so precisely with only a single eye.

The Bull's first swing was easily deflected, and the huge qunari pulled back, still grinning. He was testing his strength, looking for an opening.

"I think we have an audience."

"Shall we show the men how it is done?"

The Bull chuckled. "I think the Inquisitor is interested in how you do it, yes."

He felt the blush creeping up his neck towards his ears, but did not dare take his eyes off the qunari. The Bull took pity on him and relaxed his grip on his weapon. "Go on, I'll wait."

She was muffled in a scarf, stamping her feet in the cold. She waved when he looked her way, a shy little flick of her hand before it was shoved back into a warm pocket. Dorian was with her, and he leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Cullen knew that Dorian was not and would never be interested in her in that way, but he still felt a sharp stab of jealousy.

He turned back to the Bull in time to side step the axe coming down. He heard her gasp, but kept moving, shield slamming into the Bull's side. He danced away as the Bull doubled over. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted silver blue light dancing over her fingers: a barrier ready to go.

The Bull was grinning again. "You two have been making eyes at each other since I got to Haven, and that was months ago. When are you going to do something about it? The boss wants you to, you know."

He caught another blow awkwardly, the impact jarring his shield arm and leaving it numb. "It's not that simple," he growled through gritted teeth, backing out of range of the axe. Between the Bull's height and the axe's length, that was a very long way indeed.

"The way I see it, it is." The Bull closed quickly and Cullen ducked under his reach, sword coming up to rest under the Bull's chin. The Bull laughed, "Well played."

"Too much talking, big man."

"Or maybe I let that happen for your benefit." He winked his eye. "I guess you'll never know." Raising his voice, "You got me good there, commander. I'll get you next time."

"We'll practice defending against mauls and greataxes at dawn. At ease, soldiers. Get some rest."

The Bull chuckled again; Cullen was thoroughly sick of being mocked by now. "Talk to the boss. It doesn't have to be about the Inquisition, or mages and templars." He clapped his large hand on Cullen's shoulder before leaving.

Dorian spoke to her in a low voice, winked at Cullen suggestively and took his leave. She unwound the scarf from around her face, nose red with the cold and snowflakes settling in her hair. "You did well." She smiled at him, and had the Bull still been there, he would have noted how Cullen's expression softened. "I was scared for you. The Bull can be a sneaky bastard sometimes."

"I must admit, I sleep a little better knowing that he's guarding you."

Her face wrinkled as she considered this. "He has almost decapitated me a few times, so I have mixed feelings about that. That's why I don't get in sword fights."

"That's prudent, but it never hurts to know how to handle oneself in close quarters." I would prefer you stayed out of harm's way but that doesn't seem to be an option, he added silently.

She scoffed at that. "I don't think I've ever mentioned this, but my father hired a weapons master to train me to use a staff when I was twelve. It worked out about as well as you might imagine."

"I could train you. With a blade on the end, your staff could be a formidable weapon."

"Have you looked at my arms lately?" He took both her arms then, and found that he could encircle her upper arms with his fingers. She did have a point. Slightly surprised by his daring, he slid his hands down her arms and took her hands in his. Small, slender mage hands, cold to the touch even through his gloves. He pressed her hands between his, trying to warm them.

"I still could try, if you were willing. Magic is finite, and it's always good to have another trick up your sleeve."

She smiled lopsidedly. "Very well then. When would you like to begin?"

"Tomorrow night?"

"As you wish, commander. We should both get some rest."

He let go of her hands reluctantly and watched her go. She looked back as she closed the door into the keep, a brief smile and she was gone.

He cut a forlorn figure, alone in the snow before he abruptly pulled on his coat and headed to the armoury. They would need practice staffs and spears; it wouldn't do to damage her staff and its crystal. There was a book on spear forms in his library; it had been years since he had used anything but a sword and shield.

Tomorrow night. That was a promise. He had work to do, and then if the Maker was willing, he would sleep well. If only he could stop wishing that he had kissed her.


End file.
